And their bodies easily clicked into place, turning the same pages in an old book, following a progression both already knew, one both women had known the first time they touched each other: Here, here is my skin that feels like your skin, my muscles and frailties that feel like yours, the lift of your flesh something I intuitively know from my own body, inner maps that, for most of my life, I thought were purely shameful and mine alone. And here, with you, with me, for minutes, for hours, if nothing else
